The Dying Doctor
by Sarah the nerd
Summary: AU to DYIN, in which a deception quickly turns deadly
1. Chapter 1

The Dying Doctor

When I reached for the box no-one cried out, and I opened the lid and a sharp spike shot out straight into my hand. Somewhat surprised at this, I cried out.

Holmes was at my side in an instant..

"Watson! What is it?" He knocked the box from my hand. "What have you done?"

"The box," I said, shocked by this sudden improvement in his health. "Holmes, what is going on? You ought to be in bed, and I ought to leave right now and fetch a doctor."

"Have you drawn blood?" he shouted. He grabbed my hand and examined it. For a second there was silence, and then...

"You idiot!" he roared at me. "You stupid, stupid fool!"

So shocked was I by this outburst that I did not reply, not even to defend myself.

"You idiot...you..." His anger quite suddenly left him. "I am not dying," he said. "But you soon may be. "

I gawped at him, because it was all I could do. I felt blood slowly dripping from my finger.

The anger had completely gone now. "Sit down," he said, and I did. "I am the fool, my friend, not you. What you have witnessed for the past few hours has been nothing but a complex deception. I was not dying, and and I have in my foolishness, my arrogance, caused you great harm."

The events were only just starting to catch up with me. "You're not dying?"

"No. I had a plan to draw in an enemy. This box contains a deadly virus, which he sent to me. The needle infects the...unfortunate man. It came to me that I might pretend to have opened it and been infected, and therefore lure this villain to his doom. He is a cruel man, you see, and he would come to look upon his work."

I considered this, but on looking at the blood still dripping from my finger, I admit that panic was rising. "And you felt it necessary too to decieve your friend?"

"Please believe me, my friend, I did not think for one second any harm would come to you."

"Why decieve me like that? When I heard you were dying, can you imagine what I felt?"

"I imagine it would be something very like what I am feeling now," he said softly, "seeing you about to suffer, by my hand."

My thoughts were swimming. "This box was sent to you?"

"Yes. By a Culverton Smith, who has reason to do me harm. I need not go into details now."

"Holmes, you must do something," I said. In every case we handle there is the possibility of death- a stray gunshot, a knife- but this was new, and this frightened me. "There is an an antidote? Please, tell me there's an antidote!" Although my panic at this was not very becoming, all composure had flown my mind. The idea of dying helpless in a bed struck me with the same terror with which it strikes all men.

"Yes, there is," he said. "This is an end to my deceptions, my dear fellow." There was a look on his face which I had never before seen. "I have led you to this. I have injected poison into your veins."

"You didn't know," I said, but I could say little else, because I _was_ angry with him. His ridiculous taste for insane theatrics had put us in this position. And if one tells a man to wait patiently in a room for two hours, how can he not expect that man to examine any interesting trinkets left about the house? No, this was his doing, and as much as I did not wish to feel anger at my friend, I could not help it.

Sickness was coming over me.

"You are very angry," Holmes said.

"I will not ask how you managed to deduce that," I said, and collapsed on the bed. For several minutes I felt nothing, but when my senses returned I was lying down, the covers over me, proof indeed that I was a very ill man.

"Holmes," I said, for he was still in room, lifting up that fiendish box with tongs, "I am very angry, no doubt. We shall talk about this later. But I do not believe you will let me die."

"I will not," he said fiercely.

"Had I come by this due to natural causes," I said, aware that my voice seemed to be weakening, "I would no doubt send you away with a last message for my wife, and words too to you. But, as I said ..."

"You will not die. I will see to it," he said. With just a glance at me, and an expression of fury in his eyes, he left the room. Then straight away he returned.

"I apologize for my harsh words, my good fellow. When I saw what you had done...what I had allowed you to do...what I did...I could not help..." His eyes were almost pleading.

"Your apology is accepted. Go, Holmes. Please," I added.

He ran through the door. I lay in the bed and from the corridor I heard soft voices, and then a sharp, hard slap.

Clearly Holmes had told Mrs Hudson the whole story. 


	2. Chapter 2

Lying in the bed, I considered my predictament.

I did not know the precise nature of this disease; as I had told Holmes, I knew very little in the realm of tropical disceases. Holmes had told me my qualifications were mediocre. Perhaps he was right.

Or perhaps that was the illness talking. Would my mind slowly slide into madness? Would Holms feel the same horror on seeing my my mind a wreck as I had on seeing him?

I also wondered where Holmes had gone. I thought there were two choices: that he had gone to consult Ainstree, the tropicial disease specialist I had mentioned, or...and this thought chilled me...he had gone to fetch this Culverton Smith, who had caused this trouble in the first place. I hoped for the first option.

There was a knock on the door. Before I answered, I heard the voice of our landlady.

"Doctor," she called from behind the door. "I have been forbidden to enter this room. Forgive me. Mr Holmes informs me all will be well, and tells me not to leave- but so help me, if he is not back within the hour I shall fetch every doctor in town. How dare he treat a friend like this!"

"It's quite all right, Mrs Hudson," I said, alarmed to find my voice was weakening. "He could not have forseen..."

"Ha! When he returns, we shall have words about this matter."

"That is what I too said to him. It should be quite the conversation."

A pause, then there was a slight quiver in her voice when she said. "I only wish I could bring you food or water. Mr Holmes tells me if I so much as touch you, the illness will spread to me. I am in a strong mood to disobey him, though, so..."

"No, please, Mrs Hudson, do not risk it."

"As you wish," she said rather gloomily. "Before long you _shall _be cured, or..." She did not finish her sentence, but excused herself, and walked away.

I was left with little to occupy my mind. I thougt about getting up from the bed and taking a book or two to read, but my body did not seem to obey my commands. How I wished I knew something of this disease. How long did it take for delirium to display itself? When Holmes returned, would he find me a babbling child?

How long I lay in the bed I am not sure, for I drifted in and out of sleep, but presently I heard voices, and footsteps. Holmes, a policeman, and a man I did not know burst into the room. Holmes glanced at me, possibly to check I had not actually expired, and then began to speak in a harsh tone.

"I have gone to Doctor Ainstree to find him...indisposed, hastily making his way to a patient I believe to be...ficitous." He gave one of the men, who I took to be Culverton Smith, a cold glance. "As you can see, I had little choice but to put your life in the hands of this man, and for that I am truly sorry. Morton here joins me, and an arrest has been made."

"I cannot believe you did this," I said glumly. "From what you have told me, he is an irreemable villain. What use could he possibly be?"

There was a flicker of something terrible in Holmes' eyes as he turned to the other man. "See here your handiwork," he said. "My friend is dying. And as the only other person in London with a knowledge of this illness is away, by means of letters informing him of a medical case he could not bring himself to pass up, and of a sum of money _no_ man could pass up- I am forced to turn to you. I place my friend's wellbeing far above that of my own."

"How very touching."

"You are his only hope. Cure him, and...I give you my word you will not hang."

"Mr Holmes," the policeman said sternly.

"It's no use begging me, as amusing as I find it," Culverton Smith said. "You have taken all from me. I am nothing short of joyful that I have taken something from you too."

What Holmes said next was unexpected. In almost a roar he said, "Cure him! You may shoot me where I stand, only cure him!"

The policeman shook his head and started to push Culverton Smith away. "This drama must come to an end, Holmes," he said. "I am honestly sorry."

Culverton Smith gave a smile as he was led out of the door. "Your friend may have hours or days, I do not know," he said. His smile grew fiendish. "I will think of this as I lie in prison."

"It's the grave you will shortly be lying in," Morton said harshly. "Come,"

The second they had gone Holmes dashed to my bed.

"John, I'm so sorry."

"You are not reassuring me," I said weakly, "for if you are using my Christian name, it means we truly are in a crisis."

"John," he said again, not helping at all, "please forgive me."

"Of course I forgive you," I said, adding none too hopefully, "There may be hope yet. If only we could bring Ainstree here..."

"Our enemy was too clever this time," he said quietly. "Ainstree is beyond our grasp. I sent Mrs Hudson to fetch any doctor she could, but..."

"But you doubt they will help." I finished.

"I'm not giving up. We know so little of this disease, perhaps a strong soul might shake it off." He looked more desperate than I had even seen him.

Then, my vision began to fade.

"It is hours, not days, I fear," I said. "I need you to tell Mary I love her."

"I will," he said.

"You think you've failed me, but you never have. Remember that."

He gave a reply, but I barely heard it, as I was falling unconcious. I did not expect to wake up again. I thought of Mary, and tried not to imagine her sorrow.

"Don't despair, my friend," I heard myself saying. "I have no doubt..."

_...that this is not the end_, I meant to say, but everything was going black. 


	3. Chapter 3

When I awoke Mary was at my side, faint traces of tears on her face. When I said her name, she let out a gasp and grabbed my hand.

"John, you're awake!"

The events of the day- past few days?- slowly came back to me.

"Mary." I relished saying her name, because I had been certain I would never again. "How did you get here? I thought I..."

"I know," she said softly.

"I had hours if not minutes until my death. Mary, I told Holmes to tell you..."

"I know that too," she said. "Now you may tell me yourself." I begun to say it, but she cut me off. "No," she said with a smile. "There'll be time."

"How did I come to be cured?" I asked, overwhelmed with love for her.

She hesitated for a moment. "You were very ill for two days. I feel I should leave you to rest."

"No, I must hear."

"Two days ago Mr Holmes arrived on our doorstep," she said carefully. "I could be wrong, but he seemed...on the verge of tears."

"That is quite unlike him."

"He told me what had happened, and confessed it was entirely his fault."

"That is also quite unlike him," I almost said, before realised that it wasn't, not really, and especially not now.

"He mentioned a man called Ainstree, possibly the only person who could help, and told me how he had left London." She paused. "He also gave me your last message."

"Mary, I'm so sorry, it must have been..."

"You have nothing to feel sorry about," she said firmly. "Holmes told me he wasn't giving up, and left, and I resolved that I would not give up either. Ainstree had gone chasing after a lie, and I followed him."

"And you brought him here?" I gasped. "How?"

"It wasn't easy. I went to the train station, I sent telegrams, and I asked so many questions of so many people. At last, having caught a train myself to the place he was instructed to go, I found him in a terrible rage, having realised he had been fooled."

"My goodness, Mary!"

"I talked to him for almost an hour, aware of your time running out. At last I convinced him to see you. I took him back to London, back here, and me and Mr Holmes and your landlady waited downstairs in fear while he worked."

I reached up and kissed her. She gave a beaming smile.

"I will never be able to thank you enough."

"You won't have to," she said. We sat in silence for a long while, and then I fell asleep, her holding my hand.

When I awoke Mary was no longer there, but Holmes was.

"Mary?" I asked.

"My dear fellow, if you are mistaking me for her..."

"No! I'm not delusional, have no fear. I was asking where she was."

"She is downstairs, resting. She's been at your side for days."

A pause. "So have you, I imagine." I said.

He waved his hand. "There is no doubt you would do the same for me."

"Of course."

"I am so sorry," he said once again. "This is an end to my dramas. I've kept you in the dark too much."

"You have apologised quite enough, Holmes."

"But I thoroughly should. If not for your wife, you would be..." He seemed unable to get the word out.

"Dead, yes. You must thank Mary."

"I have done so. A thousand times." Sounding very uncomfortable, he said, "She is a wonderful, wonderful woman."

"Yes, I know."

Holmes pulled up a chair and sat beside my bed. "Did she tell you what she did to me?" He sounded rather wounded.

"What?"

"She slapped me."

I could not help but burst out laughing.

"Ah, Holmes, this has been a very trying time for you."

"Yes," he said, very quietly. I could not leave my best friend looking so miserable.

I lifted myself out of the bed.

"Come, let's go downstairs. I feel quite better now," I said.

Holmes smiled, and took my arm to assist me. We went downstairs to see Mary and Mrs Hudson, and all was well.


End file.
